


Cause & Effect

by nevergotwings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevergotwings/pseuds/nevergotwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>NaNoWriMo 2015.</p><p>Inspired loosely by a fic by sevenfoxes called 'laughing with a mouth full of blood' and rp threads with Ilene.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NaNoWriMo 2015.
> 
> Inspired loosely by a fic by sevenfoxes called 'laughing with a mouth full of blood' and rp threads with Ilene.

"Fuck!" Bucky shouted, kicking the closet door. His boot left a mark, but he didn't care. It was a run down motel anyways. The owners more than likely wouldn't even notice a difference, let alone chalk it up to being his fault. His hands raked through his short hair, turning it into a mess as eyes scanned over the papers that littered the walls. Mostly newspaper articles that he'd printed at the library and taped up in chronological order, but a few hand written notes got sticky noted to the wall along with a few pictures of the crime scenes he got his hands on.

He was missing something somewhere. Maybe on his original information from his contact in the local police. His attention flicked to an article closest to the ancient television in the room - the first one that struck him during research and no doubt was the first sign. 'WILD ANIMALS OR TROUBLED YOUTH?' Underneath was a picture of a ransacked motor home. Bucky scoffed. Trouble youth? Wouldn't they have taken the money that was hidden in the vehicle? And animals would have hit the food, if they could open the door.

"Wait a second..." And that's when he realized what it was. Bucky moved down the makeshift timeline he'd created and stopped at a picture that was taken inside the motor home, taking a step closer for better inspection. Claw marks on the inside of the door and on the furniture in the background. "Werewolf," Bucky breathed out heavily. Suddenly all that excitement that had built on knowing he was right slipped away. "It's a damn werewolf. Great." Without more hesitation, Bucky moved back to the table he'd been using as a desk and grabbed the worn composition book that laid awaiting.

Ten years of hunting experience sat in his hands as he started to page through it. Ten years of memories - lives saved, blood lost, places explored and contacts made along the way - all written down in his half scribbled handwriting.

The pages he wanted, and finally reached, were from his last encounter with a werewolf a year ago in Phoenix, Arizona. The locals thought it was a coyote until someone snapped a picture of a newly turned werewolf on their first moon. Boy, was that a pretty picture to see in the tabloids. It sent half the residents into panic.

Bucky read over the note he'd made on the characteristics of the creature that stayed the same, along with what worked to kill it.

With everything figured out, Bucky knew he just needed to use a round or two of silver bullets or one of his silver knives and it would be over. Considering all his ducks were about to be in a row as soon as he pinned the wolf's identity, he dropped the book on the table and got to his feet. Just by luck, something slipped out of the book and drifted to the floor. He bent down, picked it up and sighed. Of course this would rear it's ugly head again. Of course.

It was a picture of nothing in particular. Just a crowd in New York City, right outside where he grew up in Brooklyn. There hadn't been much reason to save the picture, but Bucky had noticed a face that looked familiar in the crowd. The face of an old friend that disappeared years ago overseas. It was impossible, and silly - there'd been too much blood for his friend to have survived; but Bucky held onto the tiniest thread of hope that he somehow made it out alive.

All sorts of feelings were starting to well up and he shoved them, along with the picture aside and back into his book. There wasn't time for that. He needed to go over the people he'd talked to that were involved in the police's investigation so he could kill this werewolf and move on already. The gears in his head started to turn thoughtfully as he grabbed his leather jacket and left the motel room.

* * *

Dealing with a werewolf was easier than he'd remembered. And it hadn't even surprised him to know there was a second shuffling around. Bucky had reacted quickly, shifting his footing and bringing the knife up to impale the second in the chest. It began to whine - only for a moment - before the face looked human again and dropped to the ground. Bucky yanked his knife back in time and let out a shaken breath. To think, it only took an extra week to track them down to the edge of town. The only nice part was that his job was done and as soon as he ditched town, he could head home.

Home. It was a funny word in his mind. Sure, he had a dingy little apartment in Brooklyn and would call it home, but it wasn't really home. Home was a place he hadn't been to since he was eighteen years old, taking the front porch steps to leave his childhood behind and serve his country. His mind drifted and he could still remember hearing his youngest sister Rebecca yelling out her room window.

"Be safe big brother!"

He turned and saw her sticking her head out, waving frantically. Bucky chuckled at the sight, giving a wave back. "Take care of ma, Rikki."

"C'mon son, don't want to be late." His father said with gruffness to his voice. No man wanted to see their kid thrown into danger, but this was his own decision. As soon as Bucky hit legal age he enlisted in the army, explaining that it was the right choice instead of paying an arm and leg for college. Hell, Rikki was going to be the college one, and Bucky figured she should have the brighter future. Plus, it wasn't going to be all that bad. His best friend Steve enlisted with him. As he sat in the passenger seat of his father's beat up truck, he stared out the window and kept a hidden smile on his face as he thought about doing something so important with Steve. Man, that kid really was a friend until the end...

Bucky blinked, pulling himself out of his head and took a steady breath. He hurried out of the home and slid into the driver seat of his car - a truck just like his father used to have - and started up the engine before peeling out of the stone drive and started the drive back to Brooklyn.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The drive from Michigan to New York wasn't so bad. Bucky liked driving. It gave him a chance to get everything back into focus and his mind back on track. And that was something he felt he needed to do. That damn picture of the crowd was weighing heavy on him. He'd never looked into it farther since getting it a few months back. Steve being alive would be a shot in hell, he knew - it was just a matter of could he waste the time looking.

Again.

Bucky sat in his truck outside a gas station a few miles from his apartment in the city, turning his old dog tag between his fingers idly as he thought. Music from the radio played softly but he paid no mind to it, too lost.

He spent too much time after Steve's disappearance trying to figure out what happened - where the body went, if he could still be alive - the slimest of variables that if had just played out differently... No, he wasn't going there. Not now. Maybe he'd just call up the newspaper and get in touch with the photographer, ask if he recognized that one face. It was the safest route. And hell, if the photographer didn't know, then he'd let it go and move onto his next trail he was picking up. A suspected poltergeist case in Virginia he caught wind of would be a good distraction.

"... _It's been a long day without you, my friend. And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again_..."

The song playing struck his attention and Bucky scowled at the radio for a moment before shaking his head and saying, "What the hell. No harm in asking." Nevermind that it was almost ten at night, he didn't waste another second and pulled his phone from his pocket. It took a moment to look up the number for the newspaper it came from and calling, pushing a few buttons to get to the editor's voicemail. "I need to get in contact with the photographer that took a certain picture in a March 2015 issue in regards to a missing persons case. 347-555-2800. Detective Harris. Thank you." As soon as he hung up, he knew the waiting game was about to begin.

* * *

 "Sargeant Barnes. That has a nice ring to it, huh?"

Steve was walking beside him, both dressed in their service uniform while leaving the office. He nodded, smiling slightly and replied, "Enjoy it. I think they're tired of seeing you rank up, pal."

Bucky stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants and looked upwards a moment as if pretending to think. "Maybe." A few lone bodies passed them and Bucky noticed a wave of blonde hair catch the corner of his eye, causing him to straighten up and turn as he kept pace with Steve, eyeing up the woman passing. "Ma'am," he said with a nod. He could hear Steve sigh and Bucky turned quickly to jog a few steps ahead. "Hey, c'mon, let's celebrate. Drinks on me tonight."

"Buck--"

"It wasn't a question. We're going to have some drinks, fun, and maybe find ourselves a few lady friends," he told Steve with a smirk. His friend sighed and shrugged, nodding. "Good. I'll get us a cab and we'll get outta here."

It was suddenly nighttime and the two of them were in a small bar on the outskirts of town. Neither paid any mind to this and seemed to be having a good time. Steve was seated on Bucky's left, while there was a gorgeous young brunette seated at his right and taking up his full attention. She giggled as he told a story about one of the higher officers getting red faced over something. Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Steve, who looked content drawing on the cocktail napkin. "Ain't that right, buddy?"

"Hm?" Steve sprung to attention and nodded. "Oh, yeah. Right." The smile that he gave was a forced one, Bucky knew, and he said to the woman. "Excuse us for a second?" She nodded and got to her feet, pecking Bucky's cheek before leaving them. He smiled after her until she disappeared into the ladies room. "What's goin' on?"

He watched as Steve shook his head, as if to say nothing was wrong. "Stevie," Bucky added, trying to make his voice stern.

The childhood nickname not only grew stern, but it turned into a scream. Suddenly it was late afternoon in the desert with the sun beating down on them and Bucky was screaming for Steve as something pulled him into a building from behind. He was helpless, even though he held a rifle at the ready.

Just as Steve yelled something, Bucky found himself bolting upright in his bed. Of course - it had all been a dream. Well, not all of it since he was just dreaming about memories, but still.

He rubbed a hand down his face, feeling the beads of sweat and he knew he was probably yelling in his sleep again. Good thing he didn't have many neighbors.

Bucky let himself fall into laying back down and let his eyes wander to the clock. Eight in the morning. At least he grabbed a few more hours than he had over the past week.

But then right as if on cue, his phone rang. "Just my luck..." He picked it up and pressed the green button to answer it with a mumbled greeting.

"Is this Detective Harris?" the voice on the other end asked.

Perking up, Bucky remembered that he used that name when he left the message for the newspaper. "Speaking."

"Hi, I'm the paper's photographer and heard you needed to speak with me about a missing person. How can I help?"


	3. Chapter 3

The photographer wasn't much help, but he did email a copy of the photo to Bucky. There wasn't much that the picture could do though if the photographer didn't remember the time or face particularly. So yet another dead end in the case of Steve Rogers. Bucky threw his copy of the picture down next to the single dog tag of Steve's that they permitted him to keep after the event. He still had one last resort that he'd been hanging onto for a little while, but he didn't want to use it. Only because he didn't want to get involved with the wrong people.

He'd heard of a psychic in Manhattan that was scary accurate with her readings. At first Bucky brushed it off, but looked into it and heard through the grapevine of other hunters that she was - in fact - legit.

All through breakfast he mused on the idea of visiting her, just to get an idea of what she does and maybe see what her asking prices were for her services. Every bite of cereal was like an epic battle in his mind. Go and use money and time? Or maybe just stay home and enjoy a day off before heading down to Virginia for that poltergeist case. Then again, answers. Answers he's wanted since Steve's disappearance which might even help him sleep a little better at night.

His decision was made right around noon, just as he was getting hungry again. Bucky took the opportunity to drive to this psychic's place. Either way, he was getting lunch out of this little excursion.

Stepping out of the truck, he didn't know what to make of it. A simple wodden sign hanging just off an apartment window that read 'divination and charms'. "Interesting..." Bucky pulled a curious expression towards the sign before entering the brick building much like his own apartment and took the stairs to the second floor where he was told the psychic was.

Just as he was about to raise his hand to knock on the door - easily identified by the same divination and charms sign, yet smaller - a person went bolting out from the apartment. They ran straight past him and down the stairs; Bucky thought he heard crying. A woman poked her head out into the hallway and called, "It's realy not that bad! Sorry you feel that way!" A shrug and she moved her eyes to Bucky. "Here for a reading?"

"Something like that, yeah."

She stepped aside as she straightened up and held the door, gesturing for him to enter. He moved inside and scanned the room quickly. Not too shabby and definitely playing on the occupation this woman had. Adorned on the walls were pieces of art that seemed to represent the elements and books littered the shelves of cabinets. On top of that, there were actual pieces of furniture instead of just the normal set up of the round table and two chairs. Bucky even noticed a black ball of fur with eyes curled up on the wide arm of the sofa in the room and couldn't help but crack a smile. Cliche, sure; but cute.

"Palms or cards?"

"Neither." Bucky turned his attention to the woman after his once over of the room and decided she didn't fit the typical bill for a person in this work.

Her long wavy hair was a color that reminded Bucky of a chocolate bar, eyes were an ashen blue, and full lips that frowned in his direction. She wore olive colored pants that hugged her hips and a black blouse that flowed at her waist slightly. The bright green socks only looked a small bit out of place, Bucky decided quietly. Deciding he probably was quiet too long, he said, "I'm looking for someone."

"You and everyone else," she said with a nod. There wasn't disdain to her voice when she spoke. If anything, he thought she sounded a little sympathetic. "Do you have anything of theirs with you? I could do a quick divination for you before my next appointment gets here."

He didn't want to commit to anything but it wasn't like he came unprepared. Bucky pulled off the simple metal chain that hung around his neck, previously hidden under his shirt and held them out to her. "One of those tags is his."

The woman quirked a brow curiously and reached out to take the tags. Her eyes looked over the tags and asked, "Which one is his? James or Steve?"

Bucky wasn't used to hearing his given name and at first was confused. It'd been too long since he'd actually heard someone use it. "Steve."

She nodded and questioned if she could remove the tag from the chain - Bucky nodding for her to go ahead - and she quickly turned on her heel into the next room. Bucky took a few strides to follow her and was given back the chain with his lone tag on it. The woman sat at a large rectangular table that sat in the room and placed Steve's tag in front of her. She was silent for a few beats with closed eyes until she outstretched her right hand over the tag, palm faced towards it. Bucky crossed his arms and watched as she did this for a few minutes, wondering if she was even doing anything. He had his doubts, naturally, so when her eyes flew open and she jumped back in her chair, his attention was peaked.

"Whoa!"

"What is it?" Uncrossing his arms and letting them take up residence at his sides, Bucky had his suspicions that maybe she was pulling something. Though, judging from the expression on her face, she was startled. A little scared, even.

She shook her head and got to her feet, the chair scraping the wooden floor in the quiet room as she moved. "I don't know if I can do anything with this."

Bucky furrowed his brow, confused. Clearly, she was getting something from Steve's dog tag. He saw her reaction, after all, and there was no writing it off. "What did you see? Or feel or whatever?"

Waving her hands in the air, she continued to shake her head before freezing. Abruptly she moved finally a second later, grabbing a business card and the dog tag and shoving both of them towards Bucky. "Give me some time to work through it. Maybe. Maybe..." She seemed to be a little frantic over whatever it was. And Bucky would take that as a good sign. He started towards the door and paused, only to turn and thank her, but was immediately shoved back by her and through the door after she quickly opened it.

"Thanks--"

The door shut in his face, only a few inches in between and Bucky looked at the business card as he finished his parting words that she wouldn't be able to hear. "--Darcy."

* * *

A day was the only time he could give the psychic - Darcy Lewis, as he'd read from the buisness card. The card now took residence in his notebook of contacts that he kept in his backpack for traveling. So for the twenty four hours after his encounter with Darcy, Bucky set to work looking into possible cases. That poltergeist in Virginia was still looking like a hit and he found something that might be just on the right side of weird to be his thing in Boston. There was a string of attacks in southern California that looked like something, but he'd emailed someone on that side of the continent about it instead. No sense in driving all the way out there if it might be nothing but a doped up drunk or something.

He even managed to sneak in a little training into his wait time. A good run around the neighborhood, some push ups, and shadowboxing had him feeling more than confident in his state. It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for the body.

A day and a half later from his first interactions with her and Bucky was dialing the number on her card, only to be pleasantly greeted by Darcy on the other end. "You probably remember me from the other day? I asked for a divination and you...reacted?" Not calling it 'freaking out' seemed like a good idea. No point in irritating her if she was still undecided."Sorry. I just wanted to know if you thought it over."

"Eager beaver."

Bucky went to respond, starting to try and explain that his best friend was missing, but she stopped him.

"It's not a bad thing. It's kind of admirable." She sighed audibly before adding, "Next week. I have some appointments this week and will need to rest up. That work for you?"

Well, that certainly could give him the time to travel and do a case. "Make it a week and a day and you got yourself a new client, Miss Lewis."

"Darcy," she corrected.

"Darcy. Alright?"

"It's a date, James."

With that, he heard her end of the call cancel and pocketed his cell phone. He couldn't waste another second if he wanted to take a swing at that poltergeist, so he grabbed his backpack and was darting out of the apartment.

 


End file.
